


Rhinestones That Shine

by Zen_monk



Series: Beyond the Rift [3]
Category: Dissidia Duodecim: Final Fantasy, Dissidia: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy IV, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Existentialism, Fear, Fear of Death, Flirting, Friendship, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Male-Female Friendship, Minor Violence, Psychological Trauma, Shame, Strangulation, Survivor Guilt, Teasing, self-deprecation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 11:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zen_monk/pseuds/Zen_monk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fatigue and injury settled in Kain's bones long before he found Tifa. Fatigue and injury rested in his being, which got dredged up and disturbed, given names and forms, when Tifa made him sit down for just a hot second because for Cosmos' sake Kain, you're going to fall over like a fainting goat at this rate! So let her teach the virtues of self-care and of faith, for fighting those mirrored likenesses of yourself has leeched you from all of your being, and risk making you as hollow and dull as those manikins that you so despised and feared. </p><p> So why is it that manikins look so much larger than life than the real things? Each one mirrors the face of treachery, and each one mirrors the shock of those victims when the lance has pierced them through and shattered. If she keeps stripping you of your armor to treat you, will she see the loose sand that counts as filling not so unlike a doll?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rhinestones That Shine

She insisted on leading the way back, so he let himself be her assist. She insisted to go through the fields quickly, and when he was going to say that they needn't take on so many enemies, she was dashing and feinting through a line of manikins almost too quick for him to see. But he tried to resist the one time when they were a gateway away from Cosmos’ Sanctuary because she insisted that they take a break, and it felt too much like tempting the gods to undo their journey even though injury and fatigue set in his bones long before Tifa found him kneeling and with his spear raised at her.

 

“For ten minutes.”

 

“Manikins have no concept of time; not a second should be spared idle.”

 

“If we’re going to the source of the army, then we’ll encounter them along the way, whether they’re nearer to Cosmos’ domain or further away. We should at least take the time to sharpen our weapons before getting back to the grind.”

 

“…You’ve a weapon to sharpen?” he said, a ghost of a smirk.

 

“That’s why my wit is so sharp!” she shot back, an easy smile on her lips and a hand on her hip, challenging him. “Well, not really. But don’t think I’ll let someone like you get the last word instead of me.” The jest left her eyes and she looked straight at him, soft and full of concern. “Come on, Kain,” she coaxed. “You can’t fool me, the way you’ve been holding your spear. That Ultimecia manikin pelted you all over the place.”

 

“I’ve been at a distance far enough to not feel the full brunt.” But the excuse couldn’t hold up to the dull pangs of pain that rippled through his left shoulder and across his back. He sighed in concession. “I’ll rest if you will.”

 

Tifa scanned around the area, and thus far it has been cleared through of manikins and it will take some time before more would drift through this gateway. “You know, I think this is the way we came through when Laguna was leading the way. Though, we definitely didn’t take the ‘scenic route.’ It looks like the gateway to the castle ruins is all cleared through. Let’s get as close to the ruins as we can before tackling on the gateway to the sanctuary.”

 

A brief trek upwards overlooked the entire area, an advantage that wasn’t overlooked by either of them, and as the ruins loomed closer to them, a moogle caught sight of them and bumbled through the air towards them. They found a place to rest, an alcove of stone and wood, and just as well, for fatigue settled heavily upon Kain upon reaching the crumbling structure. He could only stare at Tifa negotiating KP with the creature in a daze, his focus still alert of his surroundings if only out of practiced caution.

 

 _Always silent, always like a sentinel prowling the fields for a purpose,_ thought Kain. If there was anything positive to be said, the near constant battling with the manikins had made him more proficient in doling out punishment. There were occasions when he would shatter a small group with the impact of one high jump, or to chain all his death blows until the ground was littered with shards and brittle limbs. But he avoided them when he could when it became more apparent that there was no slowing them down, nor were there any definitive bottleneck to put a stopper on the onslaught. He especially put more effort in evading the manikins when he had a comrade in tow, unconscious and disturbingly weightless, as though he were really carrying the shells of their former self and several times he would give pause and check for vital breath.

 

He glanced at Tifa, who seemed to be wrapping up her transaction, and imagined her drained of strength and at his mercy, whispering “why?” until slipping into deep unconscious, the loss of personal spirit so unlike actual slaying and more like the blankness of a manikin’s face. He grimaced in distaste, eyes closed to block it out.

 

Boots scuffed the dirt, walking towards him. A soft voice from above seemed to echo at him, “Kain, is it that bad?”

 

He opened his eyes, and the physical pain couldn’t compare to his dark musings. “Quite,” he said almost to himself, not directly answering her question.

 

She made a sympathetic noise, in the back of her throat, and it brought him to look at her through his visor at the worry upon her face. “It’s not unmanageable,” he sighed, still not quite talking about his body.

 

“Then it should be easier to make better. Let’s have a look.”

 

She cajoled him in the way that she bartered with the moogle, and with short prodding he showed her the straps and mechanisms and  together they pried open the armor that spanned his torso and shoulders, revealing the thin clothing and bruised flesh underneath. The armor was laid next to him, like a discarded shell, as he took a seat upon a suitable stone, helmet hanging off his fingers, his long hair loose and mussed. He let his bangs hide his eyes, masking the unexpected feelings of modesty as she examined the damage, making terse answers about his physical health and trying to ignore the way her hands feel for knowledge on his battered shoulders and back.

 

“I fail to see why you couldn’t just cast Cure on me,” he said.

 

“I remembered something when I was alone about how to use healing spells more effectively on specific parts of the body. I tried it out before you ran into me, just to see if the spells we know from our homeworlds can apply outside of battling. I think I learned it from the master who taught me martial arts…Zangan. Yeah…” she trailed off, as do her fingers across his shoulders. “Even now, I can hear him teaching me how to survive in the wild, but that’s it. I don’t remember where he was lecturing me or when. At least they’re useful memories.” Kain could hear the wistfulness in her voice.

 

“What I’m going to do is to concentrate the spell into my hands and make it heal specific parts of the body. Just casting it over you might make you feel better overall, but it doesn’t mitigate the lasting problems. So think of it as a deep-layered kind of therapy. It’ll smart, though, so brace yourself.”

 

“Very well.”

 

He couldn’t hold back the exclaimed “Ahhh-hhh!” when she placed her hands firmly on his left shoulder, the spell reaching deep within his muscles and drawing out the pain. His entire back tensed painfully and he gripped his knees hard, elbows almost locked in as he felt his body rebel against the process.

 

“Yeah, it never gets easy after the first time,” said Tifa, wincing sympathetically. She pressed fingertips into the shoulder, just enough to make a difference through the clothing, and began to knead gently, mindful of his reactions.

 

“Tis merely the shock of it all,” Kain said through gritted teeth. He tried to relax his body as ensorcelled hands reached more than skin deep within him. Her palms and fingers are upon his skin, but it was as though they’re pressed deeper, going through layers of skin and muscle and bone, seeping through the narrow caverns of his body with healing tendril that pulled the old wounds up and warmed them. The process felt tedious, as though unearthing each blow and wound he suffered upon his body since awakening in this gods-locked world, and it was like being seared and sewn closed. It was a harsh sensation, making him tense and break like cord snapping apart, only to give way to gradual heat and warmth that spread throughout his sweat-chilled back.

 

“Can you move your arm like this?” she asked softly. He complied and with one hand on his wrist to guide the motion and the other on his shoulder, she helped him stretch and heal the joints and sinew around each movement, renewing painful sensations that made him scowl deeply and groan nearly inaudibly. When she lowered it, he rolled the shoulder in its socket, feeling renewed ease and lightness that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

 

“Almost there, now.”

 

“How are you drawing out the magic this long?” he asked, voice husky.

 

“I’m concentrating on drawing out the power bit by bit, instead of all at once. It’s a little hard to maintain, though...”

 

Kain “hm-ed” and let her resume the deep healing. The wound-deep pain has been mitigated to an extent so that it became only a dull ache. He could feel himself loosening, becoming more pliable and yielding under her hands. She developed a slow rhythm now, having broken through the tension, and the magic seemed to go deeper down than before. He propped his elbows upon his knees, mindful of the greaves, and rested his forehead on his hands, eyes closed and helmet dropped to the cluster of grass. In the same kind of insistence that got him to rest, to heal, and to pry apart the hard shell of his armor to reveal himself to her, he could feel her going within, hands and fingers reaching through him all green and ephemeral as healing spells go.

 

It was like she reached him all the way down to his center, where the secrets and the pain lie, exposed and laid bare to her in a clockwork citadel, and she chose to cradle that shame instead of punishing it.

 

The magic began to recede, and he groaned a sigh. Her hands are still going through with their careful ministrations upon his shoulders, rubbing out sores and kneading knots.

 

“Better?” she asked.

 

He sat up a little straighter, almost leaning against her, and breathed deep and easy. “Yes. Thank you.”

 

“That’s good,” she said, voice distant. A question lingered in her hands.

 

He decided to strike first. “Yes?”

 

“Hey Kain... what were you going to do if you didn’t leave me at Ultimecia’s castle? What would happen if Ultimecia didn’t say those accusations about you?”

 

Kain sighed through his nose, feeling weary. “I would... probably travel with you for a while,” he said slowly. “Perhaps to use Zidane as a lure... well, to be frank I thought no further than to slay the witch. I hadn’t thought about what to do with you.”

 

“And here I was thinking you were some sort of sneaky mastermind!” teased Tifa, softly, sliding her hands across his shoulders playfully. Her next words contained no smile, however. “I guess you must have been doing this for a while, since the time we separated to look for our crystals.”

 

Kain chose not to elaborate.

 

“So... who do you think are still out there? Or, I hope we aren’t the only-”

 

“I haven’t made Lightning sleep, to be sure,” he interrupted. He smiled ruefully. “She refused to back down in front of me, and we were interrupted by Garland and Exdeath. But I know not what she is doing now.”

 

“And... what about Laguna or Vaan or...”

 

“None from the group we traveled with.”

 

“Oh,” she sighed, relieved. “That’s good.”

 

“Though I cannot say the same for Jecht; I saw that he had fallen from what I presumed to be the enemy. The imperious one, I believe.”

 

“I see... poor Yuna,” said Tifa. She stopped her hands on his shoulders, one on each side and they were nearly hot from the constant work laid upon him. “So Kain, let’s say that you got... everyone but you asleep. What are you going to do then?”

 

Kain opened his mouth to speak, but found himself without words. The idea had weighed heavily on his mind before, but didn’t want to dwell on that particular part of the future. It was then left to Tifa to bring life to it.

 

“Were you going to fight everybody alone? All the manikins, the warriors of Chaos, Chaos itself? Only you and that guy in shining armor while everyone else is asleep?”

 

Kain frowned harshly and scowled, though dread choked his threat and settled heavily upon his neck.

 

“A sliver of doubt for me now?” he joked, feeling no jest.

 

“More like sadness.”

 

“You wouldn’t remember it.”

 

“I would!” she exclaimed, gripping his shoulders in rebuke. “How can I just wake up and not know that you were fighting all by yourself! How can I just go on without knowing what you did, what you were doing for us, for everyone? I couldn’t... how could I go on fighting again after you were suffering all by yourself?”

“Tifa...”

 

“You’re out to break some hearts if you do that. No way I’ll forgive you for it,” she whispered, voice tight. He thought she might start crying and grew numb with shock. 

 

He felt the need to say something. “Tifa, I... I wouldn’t have known such a tender heart to be as much a force of nature as your fists. I used to think such honesty would win a war, as befitting a true warrior, but I chose the liar’s path to win. It’s… troubling to reconcile that I do dishonorable things for a higher cause. It’s more than I deserve, given my current reputation.”

 

“You want me to say the friendship speech again?” she sniffed. “Because I’ll do it if it means it’ll get through that hard shell you put up this time.”

 

“I believe you’ve already shucked me out of it. Unless, you wish to unclothe me further…?”

 

“Oh, you!” she playfully pushed him, not for the purpose of unseating him. She walked around to stand in front of him, arms crossed across below her breasts, hands holding her elbows and boots idly scuffing the ground. Loose bangs obscure her profile, though a plaintive sniff can be heard.  He lamented over the loss of her warm palms.

 

“Thank you,” he said at last. He rolled his shoulders for emphasis and found the ease in doing so to be liberating. He remained seated, though, rooted and feeling lethargic. Staying alert became a battle and the lingering warmth was beginning to veil his senses. He could only run on desperation now, and it strained his mind.

 

“It’s the least I can do,” Tifa said softly. She dropped her arms from holding herself only for them to wind around her back, her left hand holding her right elbow, as though she’s making herself open to scrutiny. Some long-range manikin would take aim at that bared heart and there she’d go like a candle flame in the wind.

 

And where would her warm words and hands go except to be carried on by him alone? Even then they would disappear in the wind, for he alone bore witness to her and what she’s done for him, and in the end he’d disappear while the rest sleep on. Her beneficence was ill-given.

 

“Hey Kain,” and suddenly she’s closer and he’s eye level with her navel. “Wanna show me your hands?”

 

He turned his hands, palms up, and she knelt down in front of him and suddenly they’re eye-to-eye. She gave a quick smile and looked down at his bare hands. She took hold of each one, and he hadn’t realized how chilled his hands were until she held them or how rough the top and his knuckles were until they slid against smooth calluses. She held them up closer to her face and examined each other, and if he would he could take hold of her cheeks and see if she was just as warm all over or she was as chilled as he was in the harsh environment.

 

“Looks like your hands took a beating, too,” she sighed. “See? They’re trembling a bit, right? Are you able to bend your fingers or are they starting to get too numb?”

 

“I can manage-”

 

“Hey don’t give me that,” rebuked Tifa. “Take it from me; taking care of your hands is top priority.” She let go his right hand and cupped his left with both of her hands, encompassing his dominant orientation with her strongest assets.

 

“We haven’t the time-”

 

“Five minutes,” she said. “I got that moogle to play look-out for us.” Kain looked up and, indeed, the round creature had stopped meandering through the air currents to zip around them in purposeful watch. He found confidence in it lacking.

 

“Wow, Kain, if looks could demotivate...” He felt her fingers squeezing the palm and a jolt shot up his spine.

 

“Tifa, please-” and she began to knead carefully and sensation spiked through his arm into something not unpleasant, but he remembered just the same all he had done with his hands that numbed him more than pain.

 

“Three minutes, tops,” she said brightly.

 

Like how his spear reverberated when turncoat steel met allied metal. Like how it shook when he pierced through their defenses right and the resounding cry of their pain nearly shattered his own peace of mind.

 

He jerked his hand away from Tifa’s grasp. He turned away from bright, wide eyes staring at him in surprise. He recalled the way Cecil looked up at him in shock, transfixed as he came down to pierce him from above. He never thought he’d see such pure shock from his friend, not unlike mindless fear.

 

“Ah! Well, I guess we don’t have to...” she trailed off, doubt in her voice, an apology not far away.

 

The voice of Zidane’s voice trailing off from a confident drawl to an uneasy dip in tone as he looked behind him, as terror came upon his face as Kain charged at him so open and vulnerable.

 

He closed his eyes and gripped his hand with the other. He squeezed it as hard as he would his eyes, forcing back memories in his mind and in his body.

 

“Are you... getting a flashback?” she asked kindly, like abrasive light shining through fog. “Kain... Hey, talk to me. I’ve never seen you so scared...”

 

She placed her hands on his shoulder and on his arm, like a prelude to an embrace, and he rose sharply, leaving her in the lurch. He grabbed his armor and his helm and turned his back to her, facing a ruined wall in some semblance of privacy. He could hear her standing up as well, her boots disturbing the dry grass and powdery ground, and feel the uncertainty and sadness emanating from her like an ache between his shoulders.

 

“I... I appreciate your... gesture of kindness.” Words are fumbling out of him, almost bearing no meaning. He slipped on his doublet and began to feel more secure of himself. His fingers felt clumsy against the straps and buttons closing him in. He gritted his teeth in frustration at something that should have been so simple and readily available. “It was most helpful, but we must carry on.” He could hear her walking up slowly behind him, cautiously, and he ignored her approach as he put all his focus on putting himself back to the way he was. He realized that he kept repeating himself, like when he kept refastening the same damn thing on his doublet, and he scowled deeply in frustration.

 

“Our time of healing overnight is over, for a manikin would just slay us in our sleep,” he continued. Doublet secure, he reached for his armor even when he knew that she was right behind him and he stopped his assembling of himself when he could feel her presence so close to him that there probably wouldn’t have been room to put it on comfortably without bumping into her.

 

“It is past time to feel keenly our hurts and to do something about them,” he said dully. “You must trust others to soldier on without the need to always stop.”

 

“Trust. Huh.” Tifa sounded too tired to argue with him. He hoped that she wouldn’t.

 

“You should harden that tender heart of yours.”

 

“This tender heart is what got you to come my way, didn’t it?” she said with a smile in her voice.  “And you know what I also see? The way that you started slouching like a beaten dog when you’re always ramrod straight. I saw the way that you carry your lance like it’s made of stone and that it’s going to slip out of your fingers any moment. You’d think that helmet would hide the world from looking at your eyes, but I’m shorter than you so I can look up and see how tense you look. Like you’re being strung up with strings or having everything wrung out of you like a limp rag.”

 

Movement flickered at the corner of his eye and he glanced to his right to see her hand reaching out to touch his elbow. He saved her the trouble by turning around to face her, to look down onto to see her startled, to see her nervously meet his eyes, and how he loomed over her.

 

For all that her shapely shoulders and athletic body promised of her abilities, she still looked smaller up close to him, and with eyes that looked too deep into his own.

 

_How is it that her manikin looked so much larger than life than the real thing? Rather, why does our humanity appear so frail in comparison?_

Holding his gaze steady, she reached out to place a hand on his armor and gently tugged it her way. He let her take it from his grasp.

 

“Woah, this is light!” she exclaimed, marveling at the plate and testing its weight between her hands.

 

“The finest in dragonhide, if memory serves,” said Kain, crossing his arms. “I’m always amazed at the ease in remembering the smallest of things and not the most important ones.”

 

“That’s more than I can say, so treasure the ones that you know. At least, I treasure the memories I have with you and with everyone else.”

 

He heard more of her wistfulness in her voice, and against better judgment he decided to probe into it.

 

“It must appall you to see their sleeping forms within that gate.”

 

“I can’t say that I’m happy about it,” she said in a guarded tone. “I can’t really imagine what it must be like to have to fight against your own friends.”

 

“It helps to do so in the back,” he said, with little feeling. He averted his eyes from her, though he could feel hers on him. “I suppose that your fists could knock them out in one go, but the most I could do was wear them down without delivering the mortal blow. Regardless, I delivered the sharpest pain upon them as only an honored brother-in-arms would ever commit.”

 

“You don’t have to say anymore, Kain…” She stepped closer to him and made to lay a comforting hand on his arm. He brushed her off harshly. He stepped back to gain some distance, but found the wall meeting him from behind. In any other time, it would have been appropriate, possibly with various other accusers with their weapons pointed at him. He made do with just Tifa, and he found he could cringe away from her sympathy just as much as if it were a sword.

 

“I dueled Cecil on the pretense of honor. Then I saw Bartz and offered my assistance until his back was turned. And that’s the way of it: insinuate myself with friendship until they turn their gaze. It continued for each one, although Zidane spied me committing the deed unto Firion so I made short work of him. And then… you.” He looked up at Tifa, her face pale and eyes big and sad. She looked lonely, and she might as well have been the only warrior wandering the fields for a good long time before he found her. He still remembered her unbridled joy and relief when he intervened between her and Ultimecia. He wondered then if it was foolish to save her only to diminish her by his hand. He wondered if he was still a fool now.

 

“They always ask why and I always say ‘forgive me.’ I thought I would ask for forgiveness forever, even though it would mean nothing in the next cycle. And the next. And the _next_! My words would be as empty and hollow as the loathsome puppets that scour this world without meaning. I’m no different than-!”

 

He stopped. Eyes wide and unseeing, and instead of looking at Tifa he recalled seeing the various likenesses of himself, shining falsely as glass in the sand, and he was gripped in the horror of each of their blank faces- his face- staring blindly and impassively, crying out in his mangled voice when they fall into pieces, each shard reverberating the hellish sound, and the way they mirror his movements.

 

“No different than…” he repeated softly, feeling far away. He didn’t notice Tifa approaching him. Vivid in his mind’s eye was the sight of him crumbling away, like a broken reflection in a mirror, like a ripple in a lake.

 

“Than…” a hollow sound that barely past his lips. Exdeath’s words echo back at him, and he could see very plainly how his oath and his planning seem less like diamonds in the rough to be hewn and cut well, and more like rhinestones with no shine.

 

He would be just as purposeless as all the rest.

 

“Kain.”

 

Her voice brought him out of reverie and he was pinned by her staring intently into his eyes. For a moment he couldn’t think, and he didn’t react to when she reached up to either side of his face and gently took his hands which had been gripping the sides of his head, possibly in horror. They shook in her calloused palms.

 

“I hate them, too. I hate that they act like they’re alive and in pain when you hit them. I hate that they have our faces, our friends’ faces, the faces of people we don’t know and it’s like they’re all wearing masks. I hate how they break,” she spat the last one out darkly, with loathing.

 

“Tifa…”

“But we’re alive here. Our words have meaning. Our hurts can be shared and healed. Like I said, we’re not faceless soldiers, and we can pretend to fix ourselves up when we break but it doesn’t mean we collapse into pieces. Not when we have each other’s support.”

 

She dropped her gaze, her cheeks and neck flushed, embarrassed. She stared at their hands, hers still grasping his, and so he did as well; without her gloves and bound tape, her palms and fingertips are callused from rough work, but still whole and smooth. They were warm from the tedious work on him, and they calmed his hands as they do his injuries.

 

“Are you scared?” she asked.

 

“…This isn’t about being frightened,” he said slowly. “I… We mustn’t be frightened…”

 

“It’s okay to have some time to be scared. Just… so long it doesn’t hold you down.” She rubbed her thumbs reassuringly into his palms and Kain could feel some pressure leaving his head.

 

“If I stop to think about it, then I’d never want to move again,” he admitted with a sigh. “If I do… I would hesitate. And this _plan_ …” and here he said the word almost spitefully, “...this plan would be a shambling mess.”

 

“Then do you still think we should go to sleep, Kain? To let you and the warrior you made a promise to just go on alone?”

 

“…I want you all _safe_ ,” he said at last. And it was true.

 

She smiled sadly. “You know, hearing that makes me really believe in you. You got conviction, and I’d still believe in it even when you don’t anymore and when you try to not make me do so. But I still don’t want to give in just yet. Not when I haven’t really expressed myself as a true warrior of Cosmos, and especially not when you think you have the final say in it.”

 

The smile left her and there was only sadness. “Or, were you waiting for an opportunity to do this…?”

 

She lifted her hands up to her head and made his fingers encircle firmly around her neck.

 

“Tifa!” He broke out of her grasp, stricken. He hurriedly back away from her but was met with a wall and he couldn’t scurry away from the cruel image.

 

She looked away apologetically. “That was too much. Sorry.”

 

He hung his head low, still reeling from her actions. “That was too blunt a sword, milady. Though… the cut was effective.” His voice shook, and but it certainly stirred him from the malaise within him.

 

Wordlessly, Tifa lifted his armor up from the ground and offered it to him. He took the proffered belonging and, with her assistance, assembled it back onto him so he was once again whole and hardened. Tifa handed the helmet to him, and he felt security in knowing his eyes were shielded with the dragon’s gaze looking out for him.  

 

“…To think that we haven’t word of a stray manikin,” he said at last, glancing at the moogle. He was aghast to find it stalled in the air, enraptured by what it must have witnessed in full between Tifa and himself. Upon Kain’s remark, it quickly rose in altitude and resumed its fervent lookout around where they are.

 

“…It should give us some KP to compensate for the show we gave,” he muttered darkly.

 

“Kain, I want to show you something.”

 

He waited patiently as she held out her hand and closed her eyes in concentration. In a flash of light, a bright yellow flower appeared in her palm, its bloom modest and pure, and the scent of its freshness washing over them.

 

“It was with me when I first came here. This was before I met all of you: Lightning, Laguna, you… well, yeah. But for that moment when I was by myself and only a beacon of light to guide me to Cosmos, I had this with me.”

 

“It’s a lovely flower,” he said, for lack of a better statement.

 

She nodded. “When I see it, I knew it was from a place where flowers don’t bloom naturally. I also know that it came from my dearest friend. She…” and she paused, an epiphany nearly overwhelming her and a happy smile appeared. Kain found that to be as lovely as the gift in her hand. “Right… well, when I have it, I feel like I wasn’t alone in a strange place. That there’s someone back in my world who’s still looking out for me, even if we’re far away or if we’re separated by death. I felt that even if I didn’t have a friend here, I’m not as alone as I would have been without it. Well, it just proves that when we were in that snow field that I was wrong. I was really worried if it turns out that I’m really one of the last warriors left alongside you. This kept me from feeling empty in the beginning but it can’t compete with an empty world. I draw strength from you and everyone else, and that if we go to find the others now, I really think we can do anything even if it’s to destroy a whole world full of manikins.”

 

“Don’t say that in vain,” cautioned Kain, but it was mostly in jest.

 

She breathed out a laugh and she offered the flower for him to hold. The stem itself is delicate, but he could feel its vibrancy throughout its whole.

 

“I want you to hold onto it.”

 

He looked up at her sharply. “No, it’s too precious-”

 

“Exactly. I want you to hold onto it… because I want you to give it back to me later. I…” she took a deep breath, gathering her composure. “I get the feeling that things are going to be really hectic soon. There won’t be any more time after this to rest, and even now it might be that we won’t meet up with Lightning and everyone else. Maybe in the future, we might get separated and we’ll have to fight alone.” Tifa then gave a cheeky grin at him. “Or maybe Lightning will chase you away because she hates your guts.”

 

“I’m anticipating that.” A corner of his lips lifted up a bit.

 

“But Kain, even if you feel like you don’t deserve everyone’s friendship because you betrayed their trust, because you went and stabbed them in the back, at least you’ll still have a friend in me. Now, I’ll beat you to a pulp if I find out you’re trying to make me go asleep, too, but I’ll still drag you back with me. But if we get lost, I’ll at least know that you have a good luck charm from me, and that maybe you’ll get around to giving it back to me in the end.”

 

She stepped forward to him and pressed his fingers closed around the stem with her hands, both palms over his right.

 

“So keep it safe for me, just like you’ve been keeping everyone else safe.”

 

He looked at her carefully, at her gift to him, at her hands, and in her eyes. Like before, they were earnest and heartfelt, and it reached him deep into the center of his being just as her potion and words and hands did up till now.

 

“…You shame me.”

 

She cringed outwardly. “I was hoping to go for ‘encouraging.’”

 

“That as well. So be it.” He pocketed the bloom to his person, and he could feel its life essence spread throughout his being. “Am I… supposed to treat this as a lady’s favor?”

 

She blushed deeply across her cheeks and he found victory in it.

“Well, well!” she teased, though quite flustered. “It looks like you can think of other things besides fighting and brooding over fighting.”

 

“For this, I shan’t abuse of,” he teased back, smiling fully now.

 

She covered her mouth to contain a deep laugh, and she straightened up from her merriment, hands on hips, and said stoutly, “You know what, why not? It’s a lady’s favor to her gallant knight. Since everything’s basically going to get shot to hell, a little play wouldn’t hurt. Yeah…” she nodded to herself, and then she smiled brightly at him. “So let’s get going, Sir Knight!”

 

“As you wish,” and he bent to give a bow. 

 

She nodded and made forward towards the Sanctuary, giving a small wave and a smile to the moogle which seemed to deepen into a reddish color as it gave a hearty farewell in turn, its bobbing in the air taking on a drunken maneuver.

 

This time, Kain was content to let her lead, for he was confident that he’s now the person who can steady her if she were to falter. She shot a glance behind him as she approached Sanctuary’s gateway and smiled.

 

And for all of the Warrior of Light’s brilliant fortitude, Kain thought then that he was the best of all knights in shining armor. 


End file.
